


L'art sur peau

by NYWCgirl



Category: White Collar
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Serial Killers, Swearing, non consensual tattooing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-19 03:52:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5952682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NYWCgirl/pseuds/NYWCgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal served out his four years sentence and tries to stay on the straight and narrow. Once Kate realized Neal is not giving her what he promised her, she left for good. Mozzie and Neal are the proud owners of L´art sur peau.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Leather face

**Author's Note:**

> Kanarek13 made the wonderful accompanying art for my birthday, so I will post the first chapter of the story. The story is completely written, so I will post on a regular basis.
> 
> Update: I changed the name of the story after Iit was brought to my attention that it was wrong. Thanks aragarna.

 

 

“Listen up everybody, this case has moved up on the Bureau´s importance scale.” Ruiz addressed the conference room.

“Another body turned up. It was found by NYPD in an abandoned warehouse in Queens. The skin of the lower left leg was removed. This makes it the forth body with a skinned body part. We need to stop this guy. To do so, we are forming a joined taskforce with Missing Persons and White Collar. Agents Rice and Burke will join with their teams on the hunt for leather face.”

“Leather face?” Peter whispered to Rice.

“We suspect this to be a serial killer who is keeping trophies.”

Peter inner snorted, yeah Copernicus that would be a good guess.

Ruiz handed Kimberly and Peter each a folder with the case info. Peter quickly scanned through the info but it was meager to say the least.

They had four bodies. Two of them were from outside New York State, making it a suspected federal crime and the FBI got involved. As it was a violent crime, Ruiz had gotten the case, but after weeks of searching and following leads that turned up blank, he had called in the cavalry. The bureau needed a win. This was headline news and they couldn´t effort to not come up with a suspect.

 

* * *

 

“Is it possible that the killer skins tattoos of his victims?” Peter mussed when he was going over the case with his team.

“What do you mean?” Jones looked up from his file.

“Look at this picture; you can still see a small piece of tattoo left on the leg. So the piece he skinned was a tattoo… Jones, check out whether the other victims had tattoos on the body parts that were skinned.”

Peter had a feeling that he was on to something.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Jones confirmed that the victims all had tattoos. They had been removed. The question now was, were they removed as a trophy or was there another sinister reason?

Jones crossed checked the victims and found out something else. All the victims had their tattoos done at L´art sur peau, a Manhattan base tattoo studio.

“L'art sur peau? Art on skin? Skin art?”

“Guess who the owner of L´art sur peau is?”

“How should I know, do I look like a guy who gets his kicks out of having his body mutilated by tattoos?” Peter snapped at Jones.

“Sorry, of course not, but he is someone you know.”

“Come on, spit it out, I am not in the mood for guessing games.”

“Neal Caffrey.”

Peter stopped dead in his tracks.

“Neal Caffrey? I arrested him for bond forgery. How did he end up owning a tattoo shop?”

“Yeah well, I guess he picked up a new trade in prison…”

“Do you have the address?”

“Yep.”

“Let´s go talk to Neal Caffrey.”

 

* * *

 

Peter stopped in front of a small but gorgeous brown stone, the sign indicated that ‘ _L´art sur peau’_ was located in the basement. Peter walked down the stairs and tried the door. It was unlocked, so he pushed open the door and was met with a bright and pleasant looking studio.

“Welcome to L´art sur peau. How can I help you?”

Peter studied the girl behind the desk. She had pink hair, piercings and tattoos. She was a poster girl for a tattoo shop.

“My name is special agent Burke, and I am here to see Neal Caffrey.”

“Neal is just finishing up with a client, you can wait or I can make an appointment for you?”

“I will wait.”

“Please have a seat, can I get you anything?”

“No, I am good.”

“Italian Roast, Green tea, San Pellegrino?”

“Italian Roast, hé? Fine, I will have a cup.”

The girl left him and Peter studied the contraptions that were supposed to be chairs, but when he sat down, he found out that they were much more comfortable than he had expected.

“Here you go, Neal will be right with you.”

The girl left him and started typing on the laptop in front of her.

Peter took the cup, there was a Biscoff cookie on the plate, he really liked them, so he ate it with his delicious coffee. He studied the waiting room. It was brightly lid, but not too harshly, there was a warm glow. There were drawings on the walls that could be tattoos. Peter guessed Neal Caffrey originals. Peter noticed someone approaching him. When he looked up, he saw it was Neal.

“Peter, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Hi Neal, didn´t know you had your own tattoo parlor.”

Peter could see Neal didn´t agree with his business being demeaned to some low life two cent tattoo shop, but held his tongue.

“I guess you didn´t come here to get a tattoo, or maybe you want a gift certificate for your lovely wife, I noticed she has one on her shoulder.” Neal said with a smug grin on his face.

The man looked older then when Peter had last seen him, at the day of his trail. His hair was shorter, no, that was not the right description. Peter was thinking of the style, right, hipster, long on the top, short on the sides and back and a trendy stubble. As far as Peter could see, no tattoos, but Neal was wearing some sort of long sleeved black T-shirt, black denim and black combat boots. The look suited him. He looked…, there was only one word, … gorgeous. It appeared to have matured since the last time he saw Neal. That must have been during his trial.

“I´m divorced.” Peter enlightened him.

“I´m sorry to hear that, I didn´t mean to open up old wounds.”

Neal sounded sincere. But he wasn´t here to make small talk with Neal.

“Can we talk somewhere private?”

“Yeah, sure, come on in.” Neal gestured to an open door and Peter walked in front of Neal into it.

It turned out to be a tattoo studio. To the side, near a window was a table, it looked comfy. Next to it stood a small stool. On the walls hung original art and some pictures of Neal with celebrities he had assumable tattooed.

“How can I help you?” Neal gestured to take a seat in the couch that was on the other wall of the room. It was comfortable.

Peter opened the folder he had brought with him.

“Do you recognize any of these people?”

“Yeah, they are clients here.” Neal paled a notch. “Well, I guess ‘were’ is the better phrase by the looks of the pictures.” Neal said swallowing.

“Did you notice anything strange about them? Did they ask for specific tattoos? Anything you can remember being odd?”

“No, not really. I can´t remember every single tattoo I place, but I keep records, so you are welcome to look them over.”

“Thanks, we will do that. You got yourself a nice place here.”

“Thank you, I guess.”

“Where can I reach you? I must also stress it is in your own interest not to leave town.” Peter informed Neal.

“Am I suspected of something, agent Burke?”

“No, but since you are the common denominator in this story, I want to know where you are.”

“Well, I am here six days a week from ten a.m. until ten p.m. and even later or earlier on appointment.”

“I will need to know where you live as well.”

“Can´t the FBI just get that from their files?”

“Yes, but I want to hear it from you.” Peter stated dryly.

“OK, I live upstairs.”

“You own the building?”

Neal nodded.

Peter rolled his eyes, only Neal Caffrey. Caffrey did hard time in Supermax, and here he was, living in a brown stone worth more money than he would ever own in his life as a FBI agent.

“Thanks, here is my card, if there is anything more you want to share, contact me.”

“I will, Peter.”

 

* * *

 

His latest victim finally told him what he wanted to know. The name of the artist whose work he so admired…

 

Neal Caffrey!

 

As soon as he found out, he had left the cellar and googled the name. And there he was…

The internet was filled with pictures of him, with all sort of celebrities. Ink Magazine had featured him on the cover.

He needed to meet this man, to talk to him, to touch him.

Think. He needed to think.

Neal Caffrey had his own studio, so he needed to check it out. He would first take care of his latest tattoo. Tomorrow, he would go check out Neal Caffrey.

Hi mind made up, he prepared a syringe with a powerful sedative and went back to the cellar.

 

* * *

 

The doorbell chimed and Suzy checked the surveillance camera. There was a man waiting, he appeared to be a bit nervous, but also a bit old fashioned, not the type of person they normally welcomed at the studio.

“How can I help you?”

“I would like to speak to Neal Caffrey?”

“Sure, come in.”

She buzzed the door open and the man entered.

“Welcome at l´art sur peau.” Suzy greeted the man.

“Good morning.”

The man glanced around a bit lost. But Suzy had seen it before; a lot of people came into the studio nervous or unsure. That is why Neal had chosen for a cozy feel for the studio, lots of wood and colors, nothing kinky or dark.

“You wanted to talk to Neal? Unfortunately Neal is running late this morning. Maybe I can help you?”

“No thanks, I really need to talk to Neal Caffrey.”

“No problem, you are welcome to wait for him.”

“No thanks, I will come back later.”

“Sure, no problem.”

The man nervously studied the room and then suddenly left. Suzy went back to her drawings. Neal always encouraged her to draw, to create. Neal was always supporting her to create her own style and told her she would be good tattoo artist.

Only a couple of minutes later, Neal entered the studio.

“Morning Suzy.” Neal dropped a box from the Greatest Cake on the front desk.

“Did I miss anything?”

“No, your first appointment isn´t for fifteen minutes.

“Oh, and there was a guy who wanted to talk to you, but he didn´t want to wait. He said he would be back later.

“OK, want some coffee?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

 

* * *

 

Three hours later Neal left his studio to get some lunch and fresh air. He had been coloring a tattoo for more than two hours. He always lost himself when he was tattooing, so Suzy always planned his agenda in such a way that he wouldn´t continue without food. He zipped up his leather jacket. He was pre-occupied and didn´t notice the man who was sitting in a car across the street.

Neal entered a small bistro, a couple of houses down. They had delicious wraps, and he couldn´t make up his mind so he ordered a mixed plate for Suzy and himself and two bottles of flavored green tea.

He left the bistro again and slowly walked back enjoying the crisp air after having been inside all morning. He slowed his pace as he had the distinct feeling that he was being watched and he turned but there was only a man walking his dog.

Ever since Peter Burke had visited him, he was a bit more on alert, but now he was just laughing at himself; He had Mozzie for the paranoid stuff. When he entered L´art du peau, Suzy was not behind the counter, so he placed the food on the table and checked his phone while he waited. She came from the back room and joined Neal at the table. They talked about their weekend while they enjoyed their meal.

When the heard the door bell, Suzy told Neal she would clean up so he could see to the customer. Neal left the table to meet their client.

 

* * *

 

Suzy finished washing up the plates they had used and quickly wiped the table. She walked back to the lobby and was surprised to find it empty.

“Neal?”

No response, Strange. She walked up to Neal´s studio and knocked. When nobody answered, she opened the door, to find the room empty.

“Neal?”

“Neal! This isn´t funny.”

To be sure, she checked the bathroom and the storage room. She called Neal´s cell, but it went straight to voice mail, so it must be turned off.

Her worry only increased. She called another number.

“Hello?”

“Mozzie, Neal is gone.”

“What do you mean, gone?”

“We had lunch together and when the door bell rang, Neal went to answer it, while I cleaned up the table. When I was done, Neal was gone.”

“You checked the studio?”

“I checked every room, but he is not here.” Suzy´s voice was pitched higher and higher.

“Calm down, there is probably a reasonable explanation. I´m coming over.”

 


	2. Who took Neal?

Suzy was glad Mozzie was coming over. She walked back to the lobby when she heard the door bell.

When she walked up to the counter where the intercom and camera feed were located, she stared at the screen.

“Neal!”

“Can you let me in, I forgot my keys.”

“You scared me. I thought something happened to you.”

“Sorry Suzy, misses Velib from next door asked me to help with her trash.”

When he walked in, Neal could see Suzy had been genuinely scared, so he hugged her.

“Sorry, I really didn´t mean to worry you.”

At that exact moment, Mozzie barged in.

“Neal!”

“Nothing happened, I just stepped out a moment to help misses Velib.” He explained.

“Next time, let Suzy know, will you? For heaven´s sake.”

“Sorry Mozz, I wasn´t thinking.”

The door bell chimed and Suzy let the next client in. Neal smiled an walked up to the man.

“Hi Paul, ready to continue?”

“Yep, let´s do this.”

Paul followed Neal into the studio and pulled of his T-shirt, before making himself comfortable on the bed while Neal readied his equipment.

 

* *  *

 

“I´m done for today, Paul.”

Neal started cleaning the tattoo and applied ointment on it. While Paul got dressed, Neal cleaned his tools.

“When can we finish?”

“Let me check the agenda.”

Neal walked up to the counter where Suzy kept his agenda and discussed some dates with Paul, before jotting one down. They said their goodbyes and Paul left. Suzy had already left for the evening. Neal didn´t expect her to stay when he was with his last customer of the night. He took care of everything himself as he lived above the studio.

Neal walked back to his studio and finished cleaning his tools, when he heard the door open.

“Sorry, we are closed.” He called out.

When he didn´t hear the door again, he turned to check it out, only to startle as a man was standing directly behind him. His alarm bells went off, but before he could ask what the man wanted, a syringe was pushed in his arm. It was a fast acting drug, because Neal quickly lost the control of his muscles and slumped into the man.

The last thing he heard was the man reassuring him that everything would be alright.

 

* *  *

 

The next morning, Suzy walked up to the brown stone and saw the door ajar. That was strange, even if Neal started early; he never left the door open. But what was even stranger, Neal wasn´t supposed to come in early, because he had an evening customer last night.

She didn´t enter, but called Mozzie, who told her to stay and wait for him.      

He arrived with a cab, and entered first. Nothing seemed to be out of place. The door to Neal´s studio was open, which was strange in itself, he always closed doors when he entered or left a room.

The only thing that struck Mozzie´s attention, was the fact that Neal’ s tools were not all cleaned and put back in their storage space. Something must have interrupted him. Mozzie called Neal´s cell, but it went straight to voicemail.

Mozzie told Suzy to call Neal´s clients for today to cancel. He needed to think. He mounted the stairs to the apartment but quickly realized the bed hadn´t been slept on and that all Neal´s personal possessions were still in their place. He would never leave without his wallet. After a second call to Neal, Mozzie decided they needed to warn the authorities even though he wasn´t a big fan, he had no clue what could have happened to Neal, but he instinctively knew it was not good.

He sighed before calling. Calling the feds was not something he enjoyed. But Neal had told him that Peter Burke, of all federal agents, had contacted him a couple of days ago involving a case.

“ _Burke_.”

“Suit, Neal needs your help. Can you please come to Neal´s studio?”

“ _Who is this?”_

“My name is Dante Havisham, I am Neal´s partner in L´art sur peau.

“ _Did something happen?”_

“I think something did. When Suzy arrived at the studio, the door was ajar and Neal didn´t get home last night.”

“ _Did you try calling him?”_

“Please suit, are you even taking this serious? Neal is in trouble.”

“ _Stay put, I´m on my way_.”

 

* *  *

 

It took Peter an hour to arrive at the studio.

“Suit.” Mozzie greeted Peter.

“Mister Havisham? Did you touch anything? I called ERT, they will be here in a couple of minutes.”

“No, of course we haven’t touched anything.” Mozzie huffed.

“The door was open when Suzy arrived. She called me, I called Neal. Then I checked his studio, but his tools were left out. Neal is very meticulous in cleaning his tools, he would never leave them out like this, partially uncleaned.”

“Did you try his cell and land line?”

“Yes, no answer.”

A van stopped in front of the building and Peter walked out to meet the ERT guys. He quickly explained what was going on and then asked Suzy and Mozzie to join him for a cup of coffee so they could talk.


	3. Settling in

He inspected the basement. His victim was still unconscious. He had done some research and had found out that his victim had a history as a con and escape artist. So he had a pair of restraints custom made. It had been fun to do the research in the bondage scene. The restraints locked around the wrists, ankles and neck with a special key. They couldn´t be slipped, picked and they were made from a special alloy that made it hard to cut through. It wasn´t impossible, but it would take heavy duty equipment and time. Only the best for his idol. A bonus was that the alloy made the restraints heavy; it would wear his victim down. The left ankle was connected with a chain to the wall. The chain was long enough to reach the bed, the toilet and the table.

He had the basement fitted with cameras, normal, infrared and night vision as well as motion sensors. He checked his watch. Neal would wake soon, so he had to make sure everything was perfect for his guest. He placed a plate with a chicken salad sandwich in the fridge, along with a bottle of water and a bowl with a freshly made fruit salad. There was a Nespresso machine with two cups on the fridge. He had learned that Neal was a coffee snob, so he would indulge him. Maybe not the Italian roast Neal always bought at his favorite coffee shop, but it would have to do.

A last glance and he left the basement. He climbed the stairs, locked the door and went into his office where he sat down and observed the monitors. Within fifteen minutes, his guest started stirring.

 

*  *  *

 

Neal slowly fought his way back into consciousness. He must have had too much to drink to have such a headache and to feel this lousy.

“Damn Mozzie, stop trying to get me to empty my wine collection with you.” Neal whispered.

When he didn´t get an answer, he opened his eyes to small slits and peeked through them.

Wait… This wasn´t his room.

Where was he?

Neal opened his eyes and groaned while clutching his head. By doing so, looking in confusion at the wrist restraints. He tested them and quickly found out, he couldn´t get out. He sighed. That is when he noticed the collar around his neck. It felt like it was made out of the same material as the wrist restraints.

“Why am I here?” He asked out loud.

When he didn´t get an answer, Neal started to examine his surroundings.

He was lying on a comfortable bed. The bedding was of high quality. There was a toilet in the corner, a table and chair and what looked like a fridge. On top of it was a coffeemaker with two cups. Great, his kidnapper rationed his coffee.

He walked up to the fridge, and only now noticed the ankle restraints with the chain. If the wrist restraints were an indication, he wouldn´t be able to get out of it, so he walked up to the fridge and opened it. Inside were a wrapped sandwich and a bottle of water. The lid of the bottle wasn´t opened and the sandwich was store bought. Neal contemplated if he could trust the food, but if the kidnapper had wanted to harm him, he had plenty of opportunity to do so. In the end Neal decided he needed the nutrition more, he needed to keep his strength up; he quickly wolfed down the food. The sandwich tasted fantastic. As there was nothing to do, Neal lay down on the bed and let himself fall asleep again.

 

* *  *

 

He had been staring at the monitors. This was even better than he had hoped for. Neal Caffrey in person…

The man was now sleeping, but he couldn´t wait to see him working. He had seen his work, hell, he owned his work, but seeing it created would bring the experience to a new level.

He left the room and went into the kitchen. He grabbed the little box from Ansel, inside where two cronuts. He quickly made his way downstairs and placed them next to the coffee machine. He checked everything over, adding a new bottle of water and left again.

Two hours later, he could see Neal waking up again. He seemed more clearheaded this time. He immediately saw the box and walked up to it, carefully opening it. Neal got a disturbed look when he saw what was inside the box. But finally he shrugged his shoulders and started the coffee machine.

“If you wanted to feed me, you could have just asked me out.” Neal called out.

He waited until Neal got his cup of coffee and his cronuts and sat down at the table. He descended the stairs and without saying anything he sat down in the ear winged chair. He had placed it just outside Neal´s radius. He noticed Neal tensing up, but it was obvious that he was trying to keep his anxiety under control.

“You are not going to introduced yourself?”

“I´m sorry, I would like to welcome you to my home, mister Caffrey.”

“I like the dungeon-prison look, although I prefer my interior a bit more luxurious.”

“I´m sorry if you don´t like it, but maybe we can work something out.”

“Why am I here?”

 “I admire your work.”

“You could have made an appointment, hell, even asked me out for coffee or dinner.”

“Would you have said yes?”

Neal studied the man. “Probably not.” Neal said honestly.

“I figured as much.”

“You want me to tattoo you?”

“No;”

“OK, then why am I here?”

“All in due time, Neal. Mind if I call you Neal?”

“It is not that I can stop you, can I?”

Neal wanted to appear casual, so he finished the cronut with his coffee.

“You still haven´t told me your name.”

“I´m sorry, you can call me John.”

“Nice to meet you, John.”

“Is there anything you need?”

“ A book, newspaper, TV? Something to do until you will let me know why I am here.”

“Sure, I will make sure you are entertained.”

He stood up and left the basement he had anticipated Neal´s request. An artist as Neal needed to be busy. He watched Neal studying the manacles and the chain. As he expected, Neal Caffrey was a man you couldn´t let get bored.

He flipped a switch on his control board and within seconds he could see Neal starting to stagger and finally slumping down. He couldn´t let Neal have the chance to plot his escape.

 

* *  *

 

Mozzie and Suzy had finished their coffees when Peter received a call.

“Burke.”

Peter asked some questions , listened to the answers and disconnected the call.

“It´s probably our serial killer. They only found a boot print, but they are fairly sure it is him.”

“What else did they find?”

“Nothing, no fingerprints, no DNA, this guy is a professional.”

“We need to do something. We can leave him in the hands of this guy. We know how the other victims faired.”

“I´m going back to the office, to follow up some leads. Here is my card if you need to reach me.”

 

* *  *

 

Neal blinked in confusion, there was something on his face. He lifted his hand to feel what it was and realized it was an oxygen mask.

He sat up and was surprisingly clear headed. He took the mask off. He looked around and saw some stuff on the table, so he got up and shuffled towards it. On the table he found Princeton brush sets, several oil-, acrylic and water paints, canvasses, cleaners and next to the toilet stood an easel and extra lighting.

No books, but he could entertain himself painting. Maybe his paintings would please his kidnapper.

He placed one of the canvasses on the easel and sat down on the stool. He started preparing the canvas. His kidnapper, wait, John, had bought only high quality craft supplies.

He stopped painting when his stomach growled; it was only now that he realized that he was also thirsty.

He checked the fridge and as expected, there was water and a bottle of iced green tea. Disturbingly it was the brand Neal always bought. He took the bottle out and finished it in one go.

Neal realized he was being watched but he needed to use the bathroom. Well, it wasn´t any different than in prison. So he relived himself and did some stretching when he heard the door open.

“Hi John.”

“I thought you would be hungry after such a painting session.”

So, he was being watched.

“I could eat something. What is on the menu?”

“Asparagus with ham in a plain butter sauce and boiled potatoes.”

John placed the tray on a platform and pushed a button. The tray was transported towards Neal. He hadn´t spotted the conveyor belt before. Very smart, he had underestimated his kidnapper.

Neal took the tray and sat down, he lifted the silver lid and the smell was delicious. He took up his knife and fork and digged in. While he was savoring his first bite, he picked up the beer bottle. It was Lambiek beer, if Neal remembered correct, it was brewed near Brussels. He studied the label and found out it was a spontaneous fermentation, 6,5 % alc by vol. He had to admit, it looked good. He opened the bottle with the side of his knife, not very refined, but it would do. He could hear John chuckle.

Quickly having a sip from the beer, he got back to eating. The asparagus were amazing and the beer only complemented the taste.

“The food is delicious.”

“Thank you.”

Neal finished his meal without further small talk. No reason to waist food this good.

“Place the tray back on the conveyor when you are done.”

John got up and left.

Neal got up and made himself a cup of coffee. He kept thinking what his kidnapper would want from him. After a while, Neal started painting again until the lights blinked. Neal took it as a message to round things up for the night. He cleaned his brushes and brushed his teeth, before crawling under the blankets. A couple of minutes later, he was sleeping.


	4. The tatoo artist

“Can I have a shower?” Neal requested.

According to the amount of meals, Neal had been kidnapped four days ago. But maybe his kidnapper was screwing with him. He had no way to tell. There were no windows in the basement nor a radio or television, nothing that could give him a hint on time.

“Sure Neal. You know the drill by now.”

Neal sighed, he didn´t want to do this. He really didn´t want to drug himself, but John wasn´t taking any chance. He wouldn´t come near Neal, he was careful. He had given Neal something that looked like an inhaler. He had told Neal he needed to inhale one puff, whatever was in the inhaler, it didn´t knock him out, but it left him disoriented to a level that he was as docile as a new born. It was only then that John would come closer.

Neal stared at the inhaler, but then he resigned, he really wanted a shower. He brought the inhaler to his mouth and pushed it once while inhaling. Almost immediately he could feel his face going blank. He could feel the confusion clouding his thoughts. What was he going to do? He heard a male voice talking to him, so he turned to face the man.

“Come Neal, you wanted to shower, remember?”

Neal nodded, he didn´t really remember but it sounded good. He walked up to the man until his left foot was held back. He stared puzzled at his foot. Something was holding him back, but then miraculously he was free and could move freely. He was led to a shower cabin and the water was turned on.

“Take your clothes off, Neal.”

Neal looked a bit bewildered.

“Come here, I will help you.”

Neal startled a bit when the warm water hit him, but it felt good. He started humming to himself.

“Wash yourself.” A male voice commanded.

Neal felt something pressed in his hand. It was shampoo, so he washed his hair and he smiled at the familiarity of the scent. The water was turned off and Neal gave a small shudder. He was toweled off and changed in clean clothes.

 

Neal came back to his senses in a room, which was not the basement. He immediately checked his ankle, but he was shackled to the wall as always. He scanned the new room. It was bright, on one side were a treatment table and a small side table with tattoo guns, pigments and all the supplies Neal needed.

The table he was sitting at, held a breakfast tray with a large coffee, some French toast with maple syrup and an orange. Neal quickly ate the French toast and kept the orange for later. He decided to check out the equipment. It was obvious that John finally had decided to get a tattoo. Maybe he could knock him out with the gun once he lay down.

The door opened and John entered.

“Good, I see you ate your breakfast.”

“So you decided to get a tattoo after all?”

“No mister Caffrey, but I want you to tattoo mister Edmundson here.”

John pulled a man from out of the corridor. The man was obviously drugged, his eyes were completely glazed over.

“Stand back please.”

“No.” Neal said defiantly.

“I won´t ask again, Neal. Now step back.”

Out of nowhere, John held a switchblade against the man´s throat. Neal moved away from the table and could feel his chain shorten. He couldn´t reach John anymore. John led the man to the bed and restrained him lying face down. Neal had to watch as the man was fastened to the bed. John backed away and Neal could feel the chain give slack again.

“I want you to give him a Japanese themed tattoo, something with Koi fish.”

“John, I´m not tattooing some drugged up victim of yours. He didn´t give his consent. This is immoral; it would be like tattooing a child or a pet.”

“I recommend that you reconsider. I hate for something to happen to mister Edmundson.”

“Come on John, I can´t just tattoo some guy because you want me to.”

John pulled a gun from under his jacket.

“Are you sure? Without the tattoo, mister Edmundson has no value to me.”

John took the safety of the gun and aimed.

Neal could see in John´s eyes that he wasn´t bluffing.

“Stop, I´ll do it, but it will take time. I need to make drawings and prepare the pigments. And a tattoo that big and complicated takes time.”

“Time is something you have plenty of, mister Caffery, so I suggest you start preparing.”

Neal watched John leave and looked down on the man. He hesitated before walking up to the man. He checked his vitals but he seemed fine, just sedated. Neal was still in doubt, but he also didn´t think it wise to infuriate John. He took a piece of paper and started sketching. Once the intricate pattern of waves and koi’s was finished, Neal felt the chain shorten, so he realized John was about to enter the room.

Ah, lunch!

John placed a tray on the floor and pushed it a bit further never losing eye contact with Neal. Neal did his best not to acknowledge him and kept drawing.

“How are you doing?”

“I need color pencils to finish the drawing.”

“I will make sure you get them.”

“Is mister Edmundson alright? I mean, it can´t be healthy to keep him sedated for so long.” Neal was genuinely worried.

“He will be OK.”

John studied Neal´s drawing from a distance and let out a noise of appreciation.

“Nice work.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

John walked over to the sleeping man and out of nowhere; he pulled out a syringe and injected it.

“I expect you to start the tattoo today. He won´t feel anything, so you can work without interruption. But eat first. I hope it is to your liking.”

John left and Neal felt the chain loosen, so he sat down and lifted the lid to reveal a cold pasta salad. As always it was delicious. If he wasn´t a prisoner, he would have enjoyed these culinary treats. He quickly finished his lunch and got back to work. A couple of minutes later John brought in a package of quality pencils.

Interesting, John hadn´t pulled his leash in. It was something to remember. He did however take care not to come too close to Neal.

Neal quickly colored the drawing. Normally he would take a lot of care in this stage, because this drawing would need to give the client an idea how the tattoo would look like. In this case Neal expected that the victim didn´t undergo this of his free will. But still, he owed this man his best work.

So Neal started preparing his tools and quickly placed the sketch on the man´s back and started up his tattoo gun.

 

* *  *

 

Peter parked his car in front of the coffee shop where he had an appointment with Mozzie. When he entered the establishment, he noticed Mozzie immediately.

“Hi Mozzie, how are you doing”

“Have you found anything, suit?”

“Nothing. I´m sorry. No new victims. That is the good news. But we have no leads, no traffic cams, nothing. It looks like Neal just vanished. We know Neal didn´t leave voluntarily, but I have no idea where to look for him.”

“I asked all my contacts, but they have no news.”

Peter sighed, he was getting pretty frustrated. It was a good sign that they hadn´t found Neal´s body. But the longer it took them to find Neal, the smaller the chance was that they would find him alive.

“I will go back to the office and go over the evidence once more.” Peter promised Mozzie.

 

* *  *

 

Neal had finished the tattoo on mister Edmundson´s back, earning him praise from John. Back in the basement Neal had found a nice Barolo and the meal to go with it, was sublime. Neal had also received an assortment of books.

But it didn´t take long before John brought in a new victim. Neal put up a fight this time, but it turned out to be of no use and in the end, Neal had tattooed the girl. The dragon Neal tattooed on her back, had brought his kidnapper in ecstasy. This time a small TV had been placed in the basement. It had only local channels but it brightened up Neal´s lonely evenings. He would watch the news and sometimes a sitcom before turning in.

One night Neal was watching the news.

_“A new victim of the Tattoo killer….”_

Neal stared in shock at the screen. The victim… It was mister Edmundson. The body had been found, skinned, well not completely, but police were sure that it had been a tattoo that had been removed.

Neal fought the nausea that threatened to bring his dinner back up, his mind going a mile a minute.

Neal´s attention was drawn back to the TV, when the interviewer said they had been talking to the FBI.

_“With us is Special Agent Peter Burke, who is overseeing one of the FBI teams. Agent Burke, can you tell us something about the investigation?”_

_“I´m sorry, but I can´t comment on an active investigation, but I can tell you that the case has our full attention and that all available manpower is deployed.”_

_“Is it true that tattoo artist Neal Caffrey is kidnapped by the serial killer?”_

_“Sorry, no comments.” Peter pushed himself through the wall of journalists._

Neal turned off the television and brushed his teeth. It had become sort of a Pavlov reaction to the lights flashing.

Neal´s mind was reeling and sleep didn´t come easy. But finally Neal lost his battle with fatigue.

When he woke, his mind was made up, he wasn´t going to cooperate anymore.

When John entered with his breakfast, Neal was waiting for the tray and once it was within his reach, he picked it up and threw it with all his might towards John who was taken by surprise by the violent outburst of his hostage.

“BASTARD! YOU FUCKING SICK PERVERT!” Neal shouted.

“Now, now, Neal, there is no need to throw a tantrum. What is wrong?”

“What is wrong? You are a psychopath! That is what´s wrong!”

“Neal, calm down please. What got you so worked up?”

“Don´t play innocent. I watched the news last night.”

“Oh.” Was all John said. He looked at his feet. It was clear he hadn´t expected this.

“ ’Oh’. That is what you have to say, you are a fucking murderer. And you made me an accomplish.” Suddenly it dawned on Neal. “Did you kill the girl as well? Am I your next victim?”

John looked up at him in shock.

“No, I admire your work. But I am not going to discuss this with you. Please use the inhaler, you have work to do.”

“No!” Neal said slowly and stared defiantly at John.

“Neal, don’t make me do things I don´t want to do.”

“No, I´m not going to aid you in your sick fantasies.”

“How can I change your mind?” John asked concerned.

Neal turned away without saying anything. He startled when he felt something sting his shoulder. He didn´t see what had hit him, but he felt his legs give and the ground rushed up towards him. He was unconscious before he hit the ground.


	5. A new victim

Peter had dreaded the phone call for weeks, but eventually it came late at night.

Another skinned victim had been found. Peter drove to the crime scene. He prayed it wouldn´t be Neal. Although he didn´t think Neal had a tattoo, he was not sure. And as far as they could tell, the killer only skinned tattooed victims. He let himself under the police banner and showed his identification to the cop who was guarding the perimeter.

“What do we have?”

“Male, early thirties, Caucasian, his back was skinned, as far as I can tell, post mortem. Cause of death… overdose.”

When Peter saw the body, he let out an inner sigh, it wasn´t Neal.

“Any leads?”

“Nothing, sorry. No DNA, no fingerprints, maybe the autopsy will reveal something. Uniforms are questioning people who might have seen something.”

“We need to stop this guy. He is also our only lead to our latest victim.”

“I know agent Burke, but this guy is good. I guess we will have to wait until he makes a mistake or your man can somehow escape.”

Peter turned to leave, but was immediately stopped by the gathered press.

 

* *  *

 

Neal woke up in the studio, he was lying on a bed. He blinked to clear his vision and realized he was clearheaded, something that surprised him.

He sat up and slowly walked to the table. There was a glass of juice, well more like a smoothie. It looked good, so Neal drank it quickly.

He was still settling when he felt the chain being pulled taut and Neal backed away from the door.

John entered with a young man and dropped him in the bed. Neal studied the man and noticed that he wasn´t completely drugged up, maybe together they could overpower John.

“Good morning, Neal. This here is mister Buckley. I want you to tattoo him a sleeve.”

“No, I told you before, I am not going to aid you in killing this man.” Neal spoke up.

“This isn´t optional, Neal, I urge you to reconsider.”

“I´m sorry, but I made up my mind.” Neal stepped forward as far as the chain let him.

“Neal, I am warning you.” John said slowly.

“NO! I am warning you. I´m not doing this anymore, you sick bastard.”

Without warning, John pulled a gun from behind his back and Neal backed off. But it wasn´t him, John was aiming at. The moment Neal realized what John was planning, he begged John to stop. For some reason, Buckley woke from his stupor and looked up and connected eyes with Neal.

Despite Neal´s begging, John aimed and pulled the trigger, hitting the man in the head.

Neal stared at the young man, who was now unrecognizable. He was stunned into silence and didn´t move, he was just staring in horror at the scene in front of him.

“Neal?”

Neal couldn´t move, he could only stare at the body.

“NEAL!”

Neal saw his vision whiting out and then there was nothing.

* *  *

 

That didn´t go as planned. John hadn´t anticipated Neal to grow some balls. That is why he had killed Buckley. He needed to make sure Neal realized who was in charge. It was a waist of nice skin, but Neal needed to be taught a lesson and he could always find a new victim.

He realized Neal had gone into shock when he saw Neal stare wide eyed at the corps. All blood had drained from his face and he started trembling. He hadn´t expected Neal to react so badly to the violent act. He definitely hadn´t expected Neal to faint, although he hadn´t eaten any breakfast, that in combination with the sedation and shock, must have taken its toll.

He loosened the chain and carried Neal back to the basement, and placed him gently on the bed before reattaching the chain.

John got the first aid box out and took an ampule with smelling salt. The moment he cracked it under Neal´s nose, Neal gasped and recoiled.

“It´s OK, Neal.”

John had stepped back, so he was outside Neal´s radius.

He left Neal and climbed the stairs back to the house to prepare some early lunch.

Neal could probably use something savory so he decided to make a BLT and some iced green tea from Neal´s favorite brand. To get Neal´s blood sugar up, he added some Oreo cookies.

He carried the tray back to the basement and placed it on the conveyor belt. Neal didn´t make any attempt to pick up the tray. John sat down on the chair and waited. Neal stayed curled up on the bed and ignored John.

“Neal?”

“…”

“Neal, it is rude to ignore your host.”

Neal still hadn´t moved. He just stared blankly ahead of him.

“Neal, I´m going to leave you, please eat something.”

 

* *  *

 

When John entered the basement two hours later, he noted that Neal hadn´t moved at all. This was not good. When he had researched Neal he had found out that Neal had been in Supermax. He had thought Neal would be hardened by the experience. That had been a big miscalculation on his part. He couldn’t have Neal in mental distress, this way he wouldn´t be able to tattoo.

“Hey Neal, I´m sorry. I just wanted to show you your place, not to scare you shitless.”

Neal´s eyes were open, but he didn’t give a sign he had heard John.

John went back upstairs and rummaged through his extensive supply of drugs. He finally found what he was looking for and pulled the vial into a syringe. Neal was still were he had left him. He took a chance and walked up to Neal.

It was a sign how far Neal was, when he didn´t even move, although John was standing next to him.

“It´s going to be OK, Neal.”

He pulled Neal´s arm towards him and slowly injected the drug. Neal visually relaxed and then his eyes closed. John let him be for a couple of minutes and then gently shook him.

“Neal?”

He slowly opened his eyes. John could see they were a bit glazed over and Neal stared at him with a confused look.

“Here, drink this.”

Neal accepted the glass of orange juice and slowly drank it. Slowly the color in his face returned.

“You´re doing good. I want you to prepare me a sleeve, can you do that?”

Neal slowly nodded. John took the sandwich and cut it in smaller bite size pieces and hand fed Neal. When half the sandwich was gone, Neal started responding.

“Good to have you back, Neal.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing you need to worry about, OK? I`m going to turn on some music and you are going to draw a sleeve for me.”

Neal nodded again and stiffly walked to the table with his art supplies.

He started drawing and coloring and went on all afternoon until the drugs started to wear off and reality started to seep back in. Neal startled when John suddenly stood back in the basement.

“Can I see the drawing?”

Neal was clearly still a bit confused but John could see that reality was slowly coming back as Neal tensed up again.

“I brought you dinner, pasta carbonara with a crème brulée as dessert.”

Neal stared at the tray and his stomach grumbled. He was eyeing the bottle of water in John´s hand.

“You´re thirsty?”

He waited until Neal nodded and placed the bottle on the conveyor belt. He wasn´t taking any chances now that Neal started to be more lucid.

Neal picked up the bottle, cracked the lid and guzzled it down. John stood and studied Neal. The tension slowly seeped out of him as the drugs that he had placed in the water started to get him back into their grip.

“Neal, are you with me?”

“Hmm?”

“Use words please.”

“Yes.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Not really.” Neal studied the food with confusion.

“Come, let me help you.”

John guided Neal to the table and started feeding him while the food was still hot. They were almost finished when John´s eye fell on the drawing Neal had made. It was magnificent, not at all what he had expected. It was dark and disturbing,… he loved it. He would need a nice arm for such a work of art.

“You want to lie down?”

“Yeah, I´m tired.”

“Of course you are.”

John made sure Neal stripped and tucked him in bed before he left the basement and turned off the lights.

 

* *  *

 

Evidence hadn´t found any clues on the dead man. His name was Frank Edmundson. Nobody had reported him missing. He turned out to be a loner. The autopsy hadn´t revealed any new clues.

Peter was getting frustrated. He was no step closer to finding their serial killer or Neal. Mozzie hadn´t shown himself anymore and Peter wondered whether or not he was still in town. They needed a break, and quick, if he wanted to prevent more loss of life.

When he got up, he was a bit dizzy. How much he hated to stop for a break, his body was telling him he really needed a quick nap. It would do anybody good if he keeled over from exhaustion. He decided to head home for some sleep and a shower. He would start early tomorrow morning again. The problem was, where would the next victim be taken?

He found out when he left the building. He was still pre-occupied with the case so he never noticed the man waiting for him in the garage.

He felt a sting in his thigh and it didn´t take long for him to lose consciousness. He didn´t notice that he was dragged in a dark van that pulled into traffic like nothing ever happened.


	6. Another victim.

Neal woke with a little headache, nothing major, it was just lingering. Wait, John had shot a man, hadn´t he? Neal doubted if it had been real or if he had dreamed it. He looked around and realized he was in the studio. But there was no physical evidence to tell what had happened in the room.

John would be here soon. When his leash was shortened, he forced himself to relax. John entered with another breakfast tray, Neal realized he was hungry and he hoped the headache would dissipate with some food. While Neal ate, John brought another drugged victim. The man seemed big. The moment John placed the man on the bed, Neal´s breath stocked.

Peter…

John placed Neal´s drawing on Peter´s chest and wished Neal good luck. Neal stepped back and John gave him a sinister smile.

“What is the matter, Neal?”

“Nothing, why?” Neal tried to sound casual.

“Let´s get to work then.”

When he Neal didn´t move, John studied him. Finally Neal deflated.

“I can´t do this…”

“What do you mean? You can´t do this? Really? You really want to do this again? OK, I ´m sure nobody will miss agent Burke.” John went for his gun.

“No, wait!”

Neal´s thoughts went a mile a minute. He needed time, he needed to stall.

“Leave him, I will do it.”

John left, and Neal started to prepare his tools. He suspected that John would monitor him. When he picked up the drawing, he stared at it. He couldn´t really remember drawing the design, but it was terrifying. Peter started coming too, he gave a small moan and Neal tried to keep him quiet. He wasn´t reacting well to the drugging, Neal supposed. Neal drew the drawing on Peter´s arm, but he didn´t really use the tattoo gun. He hoped that it would fool John enough.

John brought in lunch, but Neal was driven and pretended to keep working. Peter was still out, but on some level aware so Neal kept telling him they were going to be OK, but that he needed to stay still. It wasn´t until John entered with dinner that Neal stopped. He almost couldn´t get up, having been sitting in one position almost all afternoon. He stretched before walking towards John.

“You know what to do, Neal.” John said matter of fact.

“I will be good. I can stay here with agent Burke.” Neal suggested.

“You think I am stupid, do you? Now use the inhaler or will take it out on our precious agent.”

Neal let his shoulders slump and took the inhaler and puffed once. He felt the familiar disorientation building. Within moments, he was not sure anymore where he was and what was going on.

“Come on Neal, let´s have dinner.”

Neal looked confused at John who detached his anklet and guided him back to the basement.

 

* * *

 

The next day when John checked on him, Neal hadn´t progressed as he had expected. He needed to teach Neal what his place was. He needed to think of an adequate punishment that would get the message across but didn´t incapacitated Neal or hurt agent Burke. He really wanted the tattoo. Maybe he could break Neal´s ankle, it would make escape almost impossible and it wouldn´t prevent him from tattooing.

John smiled, that was it.

“Neal, you know the drill.”

Neal didn´t fight the commands anymore as long as he left Peter alone. The moment Neal puffed, John could see the change in Neal´s demeanor. His eyes glazed over and he truly looked lost. John always felt sorry for Neal, but it was necessary to make sure Neal didn´t escape during transport.

“Neal, come over, I will help you.”

The confusion poured of Neal, so he took his arm and escorted Neal back to the basement. He just detached the chain when the front door was busted down and a SWAT team entered.

“FBI. Hands up, down on your knees!” someone shouted. John wasn´t armed, so he let go of Neal, who couldn´t comprehend what was going on.

“On your stomach, NOW!”

John got down and was cuffed and dragged away while someone was reading him his rights.

“Get down, NOW!”

Jones and Diana entered, because officers kept shouting. Guns were still pointed at Neal as he didn´t follow the commands of the LEO´s. Luckily Diana had shown all officers involved a picture of Neal and Peter. She had stressed that both men were kidnapped.

“Down, NOW!” Diana heard an officer shout, but she could also see the wide eyed look Neal gave them. He seemed so lost, like he didn´t understand English but also couldn’t ´t comprehend the dangerous situation he was in. Diana could only hope none of the officer had a nervous trigger finger. And the other hand, they were all professionals.

Diana motioned to the agents to stand down and carefully walked up to NeaL.

“Neal? Are you alright?”

Neal turned to the voice and opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out, he glanced in the direction of the voice and Diana could see that there was almost no blue left, it was eerie to see. He was clearly drugged to the gills.

“I want you to come with me, do you understand me?”

Neal´s head jerked in what seemed to be a nod.

Jones called out for an ambulance, having located Peter upstairs. Diana gently took Neal´s arm, whom started walking obediently. Diana didn´t know where they were going, but Neal sort of walked on automatic pilot towards the studio.

“No Neal, you´re safe, let´s go.” Diana pulled Neal towards a waiting ambulance. The EMT guided Neal down and did a quick examination.

“The other victim will be taken to hospital, but he is just sedated, his vitals are good. Mister Caffrey here is in not too bad a shape, some dehydration, but the level of confusion is worrisome.”

The EMT started to strap Neal in when he freaked out. It must have finally reached Neal´s addled brain that he was no longer restrained by the chain.

“No!” Neal´s face showed fear and bewilderment. He tried to back away but the space inside the ambulance was limited and his back hit the wall pretty quick.

“Neal! You´re safe. I am an FBI-agent. My name is Diana.”

It was clear Neal was unbalanced and on edge. He couldn´t differentiate reality from his fears.

“I need to stay with peter. He need me.” Neal looked bewildered and tried to make sense of what he was experiencing and seeing. He tried to find a way out, but couldn´t see one. Diana sat next to Neal and pulled him towards her. Neal tensed up like a coil ready to be released, but when there came no treat and he realized she wasn´t a man, Neal slowly relaxed, and with it came the sobs. Diana was at a lost here and looked at the EMT who was preparing the rig to transport them to hospital. He held up an oxygen mask and handed it to Diana.

“Neal, can you breath in the mask, it will help.”

Neal just started at her with those spooky black eyes. Diana placed the mask over Neal´s nose and mouth. After a couple of breaths, he started to relax and slumped against the gurney. The EMT settled Neal and buckled him in.

“You will be fine.” The EMT told Neal, patting his leg and signaling to the driver that they were ready to leave.


	7. Rescued

Neal started to come around when the doctor was ready examining him.

“Peter! Peter!” Neal´s voice was getting frantic and Diana who was making a call in the hall way, stormed into the room.

“I´m here Neal, you are safe. We arrested John. Peter is fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, and you are also going to be fine.”

The fight left Neal completely and he slumped into his cushion. He closed his eyes and seemed to be asleep almost immediately.

“Rest, I will be here.”

Diana sat down for the long haul and took her e-reader out of her purse. But it didn’t take long before Neal started stirring. His face showed absolute horror. Diana got up and placed her hand on his shoulder.

“Neal, wake up, you are having a nightmare.”

Neal was so caught up in whatever he was reliving that Diana was getting worried.

“Come on, wake up, you are safe.”

Diana stroked his hair and Neal stopped struggling. His eyes opened a bit.

“Peter?”

“No, it´s Diana. Peter is in another room. You were having a nightmare.”

“I can´t remember.” Neal lied.

Peter could see that Neal was shook up by the nightmare. It was probably more a re-living instead of a nightmare.

“Are you always staying with a victim?”

Diana smiled. “No, I have to admit, we don´t, but you are special to Peter, so this is a favor to Peter, and of course to you. We didn´t want you waking up alone and we couldn´t find any next of kin. We called your emergency number in your cell, but it was voicemail, so we left a message.

“Thanks, How did you find me?”

“Peter wanted to have you wear a tracker, but you were taken before he could give it you. He must have forgotten about it and was wearing it. But we lost the signal a couple of times, eventually we were able to pinpoint where he was and that is how we found you.”

Neal face fell, He was of curse happy that they were found and rescued, but that didn´t change the fact that he was responsible for the death of a person.

“Breath Neal.”

“What?”

“You need to breathe, you´re about to pass out.”

Neal just stared at Diana.

“You are starting to worry me.” Diana´s voice got a sort of desperate note to it.

Neal just closed his eyes. How could he even look in the mirror and every time see the man who was responsible for getting someone killed?

 

* * *

 

Peter woke up with a lingering feeling that something was wrong. He looked around and then realized that something was really wrong. Right, hospital. He pushed the nurse call button, and almost immediately a nurse came in.

“Good to see you mister Burke, how are you feeling?”

Now that the question was asked, he felt surprisingly good.

“Good.”

“I am pleased to hear that, if there is anything you want, just let me know. I will bring in some jello, if it stays down, than we will try something more substantial.

“Do you know anything about Neal Caffrey?”

“No, but my shift just started. I will ask.”

When she came back in she had two cups of jello and spoon and placed them on the side table.

“Mister Caffrey was admitted together with you. Are you family?”

Peter´s face dropped. He hadn´t thought about that. The staff wouldn´t tell him anything. The nurse could see the worry on Peter´s face.

“I can tell you, that he is OK, you can visit him if you feel up to it. But first finish your jello.”

“Thanks.”

He quickly finished his jello, making the nurse smile.

“I guess you really want to see him.”

“Yes, I would.”

“Let me get you a wheelchair and then you are good to go.”

The nurse wheeled Peter to Neal´s room. When they entered, Neal was staring out the window.

“Hi Neal.”

“Oh, hi Peter. How are you?”

“Fine, thank you, and you?

“OK, I guess, a bit groggy from all the stuff he had me on, but nothing that will last. Once all the narcotics have left my body, I am allowed the leave.”

“Good. That is good. Did they call your friend.”

“Yes, I asked them to.”

Neal felt silent. It was like Peter watched Neal mentally shutting down. He couldn´t describe it any other way.

When Neal didn´t react anymore, Peter assumed he was asleep. He petted Neal´s leg and walked out.

“Can you please page doctor Simmons for me?”

“Of course, agent Burke.”

Ten minutes later, the doctor came walking into the ward.

“You asked them to page me?”

“Yes, I´m worried about Neal.”

“He will be fine. You know I can´t discuss mister Caffrey´s condition with you.”

“I know, but I am worried.”

“Look, the drugs are leaving his system, he was not physically hurt, he was well fed, you said so yourself that he has gained weight.”

“That is not what I am concerned about. Mentally he is not doing well.”

“That is to be expected, being kidnapped puts a lot of strain on a person´s mental welfare. Now that Neal is awake, I will order a psych evaluation. We will take care of him.”

 

* * *

 

Peter was getting desperate. Neal was slowly slipping into a depression. Two days after Peter had been discharged from the hospital, Neal had declared himself ready to leave. Physically there was nothing wrong with him anymore, but the doctor had warned him that as the drugs had left his system, they would leave him unbalanced and craving for them. But Neal had been firm, he wanted to go home. They had reluctantly discharged him and Mozzie had picked him up. He had made sure Neal went home, he had stocked his kitchen with comfort food. Neal had send Mozzie away with the excuse that he needed some time alone. It was obvious that this was a bad idea, but Mozzie didn´t want to upset Neal and had left with the promise to come back in the morning.

When Mozzie had arrived the next morning with breakfast, it was clear Neal hadn´t slept. The bags under his eyes were so pronounced it looked like his skin was bruised. He was hyperaware and on edge.

“Neal, I brought breakfast, do you want it on the couch or at the table?”

“Table is fine.”

Neal extracted himself from the mountain of blankets. Mozzie poured some earl grey and handed Neal a bagel with crème cheese and salmon. Mozzie took his whole wheat sandwich with old cheese and started eating, but stopped after two bites when Neal didn´t pick up his food.

“You want me to cut it into smaller pieces?”

“Could you?” Neal asked uncertain.

“Sure”

Mozzie cut the bagel in bite size pieces and on a hunch picked up a piece and fed it to Neal, who just opened his mouth and ate, his eyes lowered the whole time.

 

* * *

 

Peter drove up to Neal´s studio to record Neal´s statement personally, so he decided to see Neal in person to invite him to come to the bureau.

When he walked up to the front door, there was a sign saying that L´art sur peau was closed for the time being. As the case had been front page news, everybody knew why the studio was closed.

Peter still was getting used to being recognized everywhere. The press had loved the story about a famous tattoo artist being rescued by the tall dark and handsome FBI-agent, who himself was taken and had been on the verge of being killed by the serial killer. When Neal was in hospital and Peter had visited him, the tabloids had speculated about their relationship. Peter had chucked it up to Neal being single and a very eligible bachelor. Peter was willing to admit that Neal Caffrey was a handsome man. He and the rest of Manhattan´s female and male population.

Focus Peter. He took his phone and called Neal.

“Hello?” Neal sounded uncertain.

“Peter Burke speaking. I wanted to talk to you about taking your statement. I am standing in front of your studio.”

“I moved to another apartment, I will give you the address.”

“Can I come over?”

“Sure.”

Peter got back in his car and drove the address Neal had given him. When he parked, he checked the address again. He walked up to the front door and rang the bell. A maid opened the door.

“I´m here to see Neal Caffrey?” Peter said a bit hesitantly.

“Yes, of course, please, come in.”

Peter followed her inside.

“You must be Peter.” A classy dressed woman with a pug in her arms greeted him.

“Well yes, I am.” Neal told me I could meet him here.”

“He is upstairs.”

Peter followed the stairs until he stood in front of a closed door. He gave it a quick knock. When nobody answered he tried the door knob and found it unlocked. He carefully opened it and stepped inside.

“Neal? It´s Peter Burke.”

Neal was sitting at the table with a sketch book in front of him and a pencil in his hand, but he wasn´t moving. The page was also empty.

“Neal?”

Peter stepped in his line of vision and Neal shook his head, like he wanted to clear it.

“I´m sorry. Hi Peter.”

“How are you doing?”

“I´m fine, well more like OK, I guess.”

There was a knock on the door . Neal wanted to get up , but Peter beat him to it. It turned out to be the maid with a tray with coffee, tea and cookies.

“Miss June thought you might like some refreshments.”

“Thank you.” Peter accepted the tray and walked back to the table.

“Coffee?”

“No, the doctor said no stimulants, the green tea is for me.” He gave a small smile.

“Miss June takes good care of you.”

“Yes, she took me in when I came out of prison. I had nothing, no job, no place to stay, no money except for the fifty dollars they gave me in prison. We met in a thrift store.”

“That is quite a leap of faith on her side.”

“Yeah, she is great, I stayed with her the first two years while starting my tattoo studio.”

“Not a common job, is it?”

“Well, I am good in drawing and I picked it up in prison. There is a big demand for a tattoo artist in prison.”

“Yeah, who would have guessed your forging capabilities would lead to original art?”

Neal smiled shyly.

“You are going to be fine, Neal, you are a fighter, you survived Supermax.”

A silence fell, Peter cleared his throat.

“Like I told you on the phone, we need to talk to you about your statement. We would like you to come in to give your statement.”

“Sure whenever you want.”

“I can arrange it tomorrow if you feel up to it.”

“Just let me know when to be there.”

“Ten o´clock would be perfect.”

“I will be there.”

Peter got up and shook hands.

“Thanks for the coffee and I will see you tomorrow.”

Neal gave a nod and escorted Peter to the door. While Peter descended, he was worried. Neal put up a brave face, but it was obvious that he wasn´t doing well.

When he came down, June called out to him.

“Agent Burke, a word please?”

Peter walked up to her and she gestured to take a seat.

 

“Can I ask what you´re intentions are?”

“Excuse me? I´m not sure I understand the question.”

“If you needed Neal´s statement, you could have just called him. But instead you stayed           with him in hospital, visiting him. You like him, don´t you?”

“I am not sure we should be having this conversation miss Ellington.”

“June, please.”

“June, I think this is between Neal and myself.

“Of course, dear, I just don´t want him hurt again.”

“Then we have a common goal.”

“Take care of our boy then.”

“I will ma´am.”

Peter left the house a bit confused. This was the strangest conversation he had in a long time.

 

* * *

 

Peter´s phone rang.

“Burke.”

“Agent Burke, mister Caffrey arrived.”

“Can you please send him to the twenty first floor? I will wait for him there.”

Peter walked towards the elevators when the doors opened. When nobody exited the car, Peter walked closer and peered in. Neal stood in the back of the elevator.

“Hey Neal it´s Peter.” Peter slowly entered the car.

Neal searched Peter´s face and when their eyes met, Peter saw a rawness and desperation he would never had expected.

“Let ´s get out of here.”

He gently took Neal´s elbow. Neal let himself be pulled out of the elevator. He moved stiffly towards the conference room. The room was large, light and mostly lade out of glass. Hopefully Neal wouldn´t feel lock up in there. When Neal sat down, Peter noticed his hands trembling.

“Coffee? Sorry, no stimulants. Water?” Peter realized he was babbling.

Slowly, Neal got his breathing under control and the trembling lessened. Diana brought in coffee and water.

“Diana is my second in command. She will take your statement as I am personal involved in the case. Is that OK for you. I will stay in the room if you want me to.”

“Yes, I would like that.”

“If this is not a good time, we can always reschedule.” Peter said with a calm, soothing voice.

“No, let´s do this. I want to get this over with.”

 

* * *

 

“Thank you for your statement, mister Caffrey.” Diana shook his hand.

“Please call me Neal.”

Peter studied Neal, he seemed relaxed, flirting with Diana, charming, no signs of the earlier distress he displayed in the elevator.

“I will accompany you downstairs.” Peter suggested.

“That would be great. Thank you.”

“Shall I call you a cab?”

“Not necessary, June´s driver is waiting for me.”

“How convenient.”

“Yes, it is.” Again the shy smile.

Both men walked outside the FBI building and Peter was not surprised to see a Bently in front of the building. He held open the door so Neal could get in.

“Neal…” Peter stopped midsentence.

“Yes?” Neal looked up at Peter.

“No, nothing, I…”

“I would like to have dinner sometime.” Neal smiled while pulling the door close. The Bentley pulled up in traffic, leaving Peter standing on the curb.


	8. Moving on

Neal let himself fall back in the car seat. The afternoon had drained him of all his energy. He had put up his game face. Giving his statement this morning had wrung him out, but the presence of Diana and Peter had made him feel safe. Diana had ensured him they had enough direct evidence to convict John, especially since he had attacked a federal agent. But still the prosecutor wanted Neal´s testimony as well.  
When he arrived at June´s, he poured himself a glass of wine and sat down. His sketchbook was still open, but for some reason, nothing appeared on paper. He rationally knew that his tattoos had nothing to do with the killings. John was a deranged mind, he and he alone was responsible for the killings. But the guilt he felt was sometimes overwhelming.  
On days like this, he felt lonely and missed a partner. Some he could open up to. He didn´t miss Kate. Once he had left prison, she had made it clear that she didn´t want anything to do with him if he wasn´t going to be her partner in crime. Once it was clear he wasn´t planning to, she broke up with him.  
A year later, he had gotten the message that she had died in a plane crash. Mozzie had been the only steady friend he had since he arrived in New York. After prison, June had entered his life, and he always enjoyed her company. But the both of them, were no substitute for a mate.  
God, now he was feeling sorry for himself, he shouldn´t drink wine when he was in such a mental state. He started a bit when there was a knock on the door. He walked up to the door but hesitated when he stood in front of it. Don´t be silly, Caffrey, June wouldn´t let anyone up that she didn´t know.  
“Neal?” Peter´s voice sounded through the door.  
Neal quickly opened the door and stepped back.  
“Peter what brings you here?”  
“I wanted to check up on you.”  
When Neal raised his eyebrows, Peter quickly added. “OK, that didn´t sound good. Let me try that again. I know how stressful giving testimony can be. I wanted to make sure you are OK.”  
“That is nice of you. Do you want to come in?”  
“Yes, thanks.”  
“Join me in a glass of wine?”  
“No thanks, I still have to drive home.”  
“Of course, coffee?”  
“That would be nice.”  
Neal walked to the kitchenette and put the kettle on.  
“So?”  
“So what?” Neal smiled, he liked the way Peter looked a bit shy.  
“So how are you doing?”  
“I´m OK… or more accurately, I will be OK… happy to be alive, happy that we both made it out.”  
When the water boiled, Neal turned the stove down, took a French press and scooped coffee in, topping it off with water.  
“What happens next?”  
“Well, the DA is building a case as we speak. John will have a hearing to determine if the case will go to trial, but that is just a formality.”  
While Neal was listening, he slowly pressed the lid down. He then poured two cups of coffee.  
“The case is solid. John will go away for a very long time.”  
Neal nodded, studying his coffee.  
“Will you start up a civil suit?”  
“No, I don´t want anything from him. I just want to go back to my old life.”  
Now it was Peter who was agreeing while drinking his coffee.   
“This is great coffee, I could get used to this.” A blush creeped in Peter´s cheeks. “But I have to go.”  
“Girlfriend waiting with dinner?”  
“No, I´m never got around it after I divorced.”  
“Sorry, I didn´t want…”  
“Don´t worry about it. No, I need to go back to work, we have a stakeout.”  
“Will it be dangerous?”  
“Nah, more boring than anything.”  
“Well, be safe.”  
“I will, Diana will be there to watch my back.”  
“Then I am not worried. She is kind of a bad ass.” Neal smiled.  
When Peter walked to the door, Neal decided to take a leap of faith.  
“Do you want to have dinner with me?”  
Peter turned back towards Neal and Neal immediately regretted asking. Of course he wouldn´t want to have dinner with him. Who had ever heard of an FBI agent dating an ex-con?  
“I would be honored.”  
Neal looked up in surprise.  
“You would?”  
“Yes, what about Friday?”  
“Hmm, I promised June I would accompany her to a fundraiser. Saturday?”  
“Sure.”  
“Do you like Italian?”  
“If it isn´t pizza, I´m in.”  
“Pick you up at seven?”  
“Great. Looking forward to it.”  
The moment Neal closed the door, he smiled. He had a date. Who would have thought that giving testimony would lead to a date. With Peter Burke non the less. Now that he thought about he, he started doubting his decision. What had he done? This was the man who had hunted him like a bloodhound, a fox for over three years, who had put him in jail. When he thought about it, that was maybe what made it so satisfying… Oh Mozzie would have a field day with this one. He would definitely disapprove.  
He walked back to the table, picked up the pencil and started sketching.

* * *

Saturday arrived quicker than Neal had expected. He had been working in his home with Suzy and Mozzie. During his absence, Mozzie had decided to install some professional security equipment. When Neal found out, he was grateful, but decided to finish some long postponed repairs. As long as Neal wasn´t seeing clients, Suzy was technically unemployed, so she volunteered to help out around the house.  
It was six o´clock when Neal arrived at June´s. he took a quick shower, styled his hair, decided against shaving. He picked out some black trousers and a blue button down, but the top button left open. He checked himself over one last time in the mirror when his phone rang.  
“Ready?”  
“Yep, I´m coming down.”  
He took his black leather jacket and made his way downstairs. Peter was waiting in the hall for him.  
“Wow.” Peter exclaimed when he laid eye on Neal.  
“Thanks, you look good yourself.”  
“Let´s go, handsome.”  
Peter escorted Neal to his car, held the door open and closed it after he got in. He checked his mirror before pulling into traffic.   
“Donatello´s?”  
“Are you a mind reader as well?” Peter asked confused.  
“No, it is in the GPS.” Neal laughed and started fiddling with the buttons.

* * *

After a delicious meal, Neal told Peter to drop him off at his own home. When they arrived, Neal looked at Peter and asked if he wanted a night cap.  
“I would love to.”  
Peter parked the car and entered after Neal. Neal flipped on the light and entered the pin code into the security system.  
“That is some professional hardware.” Peter observed.  
“Mozzie installed it for me.”  
“Good for you. You have a good friend in him.”  
“Yes, he really is a true friend.” Neal smiled.  
“Wine or something stronger? I have a nice Barolo.”  
“Wine it is.” Peter sat down in the leather ear winged chair.  
“Oh, this chair is comfortable.”  
“Thank you, I loved them the moment I saw them. That they were comfortable was a big plus.” Neal handed Peter his glass.  
“This is a nice wine.”  
“Thank you, glad you like it.”   
Neal gave a small smile.  
“A tattoo studio. Why?” Peter´s interest sounded genuine.  
“I´m not a very physical guy, Peter. What did you think happens to guys like me in prison?”  
“You do the crime, you do…”  
“I know I am responsible for what I did. But that doesn´t mean that our prison system is good.”  
“So, what did happen?”  
“Well, I was sold off to the Mexicans…” Neal stopped when Peter stared at him in horror.  
“It´s OK, Peter, I´m here. You wanted to know the story. So… I´m being dragged to the cell of their leader and while I´m standing there, I see the awful tattoos and tell him I can do a much better job. Next thing I know, I´m escorted back to my cell and left alone. The day after, I´m taken to Hernandez´s cell and there is this guy sitting on a chair, on the bed is equipment. Hernandez places a drawing in my hand and tells me to tattoo it on this guys back. So I did.”  
“I assume he was satisfied.”  
“More than satisfied. After I finished the job, I became his home tattoo artist. I tattooed gang signs on all his bitches. I got quiet the reputation. Even guards would come to me to get tattooed.”  
“You were not supposed to have access to inks and needles.”  
Neal laughed. “You are so naïve. “I even had a professional tattoo gun…”  
“So what happened when you were released?”  
“Who hires an ex-con? I never graduated High school. Luckily June and I met and we hit it off. She let me stay in her loft and supported me in my endeavors. I started a small studio, but the business took off much quicker than I expected, and soon I could take a mortgage on his place.”  
“It is a great studio. I really like the atmosphere.”  
“Thanks, we do our best.”  
“It´s getting late, I should be going.” Peter got up out of his seat. Neal walked Peter to the door. They said goodbye and Peter walked down the stairs when Neal called out to him.  
“Will I see you again?”  
“You bet. Friday night?”  
“It´s a date.”

* * *  
Neal gave Suzy the week off with full pay and enjoyed himself with doing absolutely nothing. He did his best to go out and be among people. He had lunch with Mozzie at one of their favorite bistros.  
He visited MoMa, took in some gallery openings but before the sun set in the evening, Neal would make sure he was home and locked in for the night. Neal even took his bike for a ride outside the city. He didn´t have a destination , so he just drove, stopped at a diner for coffee and a piece of delicious red velvet cake. While eating, he decided to buy a piece and bring it to Peter. He hopped back on his bike and drove to the FBI-building. He announced himself at the desk and was told he could proceed to the twenty first floor.  
When he arrived there, Peter was already waiting for him.  
“To what do I owe the pleasure?”  
“I had this amazing Red Velvet Cake and I brought you a piece.” Neal handed Peter the box, now unsure why he had thought Peter would even like it.  
“That is thoughtful of you. How did you know it if my favorite?”  
Neal smiled timidly. “I didn´t. Look, I´ve got to go. And you have bad guys to catch.”  
Neal turned and entered the elevator again. Just before the doors closed, Peter held the door.  
“Wait, want to grab a bite to eat later?”  
“OK, why don´t you come over and I cook us something?” Neal offered.  
“Sounds like a plan.” Peter let go of the door.  
Neal got back on his bike and drove to a local grocery store.   
Once back home, he started preparations for dinner. He planned on making chicken lemon and thyme with some pommes dauphine and a nice microbrew. For dessert he made caramel flan.  
At six thirty the doorbell chimes and Neal checked the camera that was pointed at the front door. Peter waved and Neal pushed the button to unlock the front door. A moment later, there was a knock on the door. Neal hesitated until Peter called out it was him.  
“Hi Peter, done for the day?”  
The aromas make me realize I only had the red velvet today…” Peter stomach growled and Neal laughed.  
“Sit down, I will get you something as an appetizer.”  
Peter removed his jacket and loosened his tie and sat down. Neal placed the beers on the table and a plate with green asparagus rolled in bacon. Took one and walked back to the kitchen to finish dinner.  
When everything was done, he brought the dish with the chicken, salad and potatoes followed. When he sat down and opened his beer, they clang their beers together. Peter studied the bottle and was impressed, it came from a very exclusive microbrewery.  
He hummed in appreciation. “So you had the bright idea to bring me cake at work?”  
“Sorry, did I get you into trouble?” Neal asked concerned.  
“Nah, don´t worry.”  
“I was riding my bike and stopped to warm up in a dinner. They had this amazing Red Velvet and it made me think of you and before I knew it I was standing in front of the FBI-building.”  
“I have to admit, the Red Velvet was divine, as is this meal.”  
“Thanks” Neal said reluctant.  
“No, I mean it, this is the best meal I had in a while.”  
“Do you cook?”  
“Not really.” Peter admitted. “Preparing a meal when you are alone is… I don´t know, a bit depressing and not worthwhile. My ex always cooked and since we split up…”  
“I understand the sentiment.”  
“You always cook for yourself?”  
“Not really, we cook in turns, Suzy, Mozzie and myself. The studio is open at night so one of us comes up here and prepares dinner and Suzy always tries to plan enough time between appointments that we can eat.”  
“Sound homey. You take care of your people, that suits you.”  
“Thank you. I guess.”  
They finished their meal and Neal got up to make some coffee and to get the dessert.  
“You know, if you like, you can join us for dinner, there is always too much. We normally eat around seven, seven thirty.”  
“You want me to join you?”  
“Yeah, I would like you there. I hate to think about you sitting alone, eating take-out.”  
“I don´t know.” Peter said hesitantly.  
Neal´s face suddenly showed…what did it show?  
“I´m sorry, I guess I´m misinterpreting things. Sorry, I…  
“No, your gaydar is working correctly. “ Peter smiled while placing his hand on Neal´s.  
Neal let out a nervous laugh. “Glad to hear. But you were married?”  
Peter smiled, Neal was adorable. “ I´m divorced, aren´t I?  
“I guess.”  
“OK, let me be completely honest. I´m bisexual. I don´t like to tie myself down to one sex. But explain something to me. The last time I saw you, I arrested you because you were hunting for your girlfriend… what was her name again?”  
“Kate.”  
“Sorry,… Kate.”  
“Well, you are not the only bisexual.”  
Peter chuckled. “And here we are…”  
Neal got up and brought in two more beers. “Let´s toast to that.”  
“I shouldn´t. I still have to drive.”  
“You can spend the night.”  
When Neal saw Peter´s face, he quickly added. “In the spare bedroom. I´m not suggesting anything indecent. I have a spare bedroom.” Breath Neal. “OK, let´s toast.”

* * *

The next morning, Peter´s smartphone chimed at six. He quietly got up and made his way over to the bedroom door open. When he stood in front of the bathroom, he could see the lights on downstairs. He decided to take a quick shower and descended the stairs. Neal was sitting at the kitchen island with a cup of coffee and his sketchbook.  
“Good morning.”  
“Morning, I made you a coffee and some sandwiches to go.”  
“Thanks, I´m sorry I am leaving so early.”  
“No need to apologize. Go catch some bad guys.”  
Peter picked up the travel mug and brown paper bag and walked towards the door .  
“We´re still on for Friday, aren´t we?” Peter asked a bit unsure.  
“Yes, we are. I will pick you up this time. Wear jeans and a leather jacket if you have.”  
Neal smiled at Peter´s quizzed face.

* * *

Friday night, Peter was looking out of the window. Neal had promised to pick him up and he made sure he was ready. He wore jeans, leather boots and a leather jacket as instructed.  
When he heard a loud noise in the street, he laughed, Neal was here with his bike. Peter walked out and pulled the door close behind him.  
“I hope you don’t mind riding on the back?”  
“No, I´m confident enough in my manhood to ride bitch.” Peter stated laughing.  
“Hop on then.”  
“No helmets?”  
“They mess up my hair and traffic in the city doesn´t allow me to drive that fast.”  
Peter got on the back and held on to Neal´s hips. Neal drove off, heading to Harlem, and parked his bike in front of The Cecil.   
When they were seated, Peter studied the place. It had a relaxed feeling, Peter could understand why Neal liked it.  
“Are you up for anything or…?” Neal let the question hang in the air.  
“Order, I trust you.”  
The waitress made her way over.  
“Welcome to The Cecil. Can I get you something?”  
“Hi Michelle, for me a Masai and he will have a Hefeweizen.”  
“Do you want some time to look through the menu or are you ready to order?”  
“We will have the grilled Ahi Tuna.”  
“Thank you, I will bring you your drinks.”  
The waitress left them and Neal stared up at Peter.  
“So, manly enough, hey?”  
Peter chuckled.  
“Well it gave me opportunity to hold on to you.”  
“Smooth agent Burke.”  
“Oh please, like you didn´t plan it like that?”  
Neal´s cheeks flushed.  
“I`ll admit, it had crossed my mind.”  
Their waitress placed their drinks in front of them.  
“A Masai for you and a German beer for your lovely date.”  
“That obvious?”  
“It is, sweetie, the drinks are on the house.”  
After she left, Peter looked a bit surprised.  
“Please tell me you come her often.”  
“Yes, I´m a big fan of their cuisine. If it makes you uncomfortable, I will ask her to keep it professional.”  
“No, it is fine. It has been a long time since I had such a pretty date.”  
Peter could see the blush creeping into Neal´s cheeks. Not wanting to embarrass Neal, he continued. “Is the studio open yet?”  
“No, not yet, I…”  
“If you don´t want to talk about it, that is fine.”  
“No, it is not fine. I´m no fine. I´m seeing a therapist. It is ridiculous that I can´t tattoo. I can´t shake the idea that the person I am tattooing will be killed.”  
It was silent for a moment.  
“Would it help if I ask you to finish the tattoo you were doing on me?”  
Neal gave a snort. “You are not going to have what I started removed? It was only a couple of lines. I had to, because John was threatening to kill you. Really Peter, you are not the kind of person who gets a tattoo. I am so sorry I was so cowardly I started it on you.”  
“You are not a coward. And while we are psycho-analyzing stuff, what kind of person am I?”  
“You are an FBI-agent. Aren’t there rules for personal integrity?  
“Yea, morally, but not physically… FBI-agents can have tattoos.”  
“Still…”  
Their waitress brought their food and Peter had to admit it looked delicious.  
“Care to tell me what you ordered?”  
“I ordered Buck wheat noodles with Yuzu and Bok Choy, Chinese pork sausage and curry crunch.”  
“Sounds exotic, bon appetite.”  
“Enjoy your dinner.”  
After a silence in which both men ate, Neal cleared his throat.  
“If I were to finish the tattoo… You don´t know what it would depict, you didn’t see the sketch.”  
“You a talented artist, I trust that whatever you tattoo on me, while be fitting and gorgeous.”  
Neal fell silent.  
“Not the answer you were expecting?”  
“Not really. Normally people tend to know exactly what they want on their body.”  
“Well, I want a Caffrey original, so finish it.”  
“I will think about it.”  
“I don´t know about you, but I´m a dessert kind of guy. What do you recommend?”  
“They have this amazing Crispy Devil´s food cake with coffee condensed milk ice cream and caramel coffee meringue.”  
“Sold!”  
Neal gestured to Michelle. “He will have the Nyangbo Cream and two espresso´s please.”  
“Sure, honey.”  
“You seem still in shock by my preposition?”  
“Well, I kind of am, to be honest. I would never have thought you would consider a tattoo. You do know they are permanent, do you?”  
Peter laughed. “Yes, I know they are permanent. But you are a very gifted artist as well, so it would be like owning an original piece of art.”  
Neal just stared at him letting the words sink in.  
“I mean it, I want you to finish what you started. Oh, dessert is here.”  
Peter dug into the dessert like a kid. Neal smiled, Peter made him feel safe and relaxed. When he thought Peter wasn´t paying attention, he quickly used his spoon to take a bit of the cream, but Peter had even better reflexes, and grabbed Neal´s wrist.  
“I will always catch you.” He laughed.  
“I guess you do. Come, let´s go home.”  
Neal dropped Peter off at his house and walked him to the door.  
“Care for a night cap?”  
“Sure.”  
Neal walked into the apartment. “You moved in recently?”  
“No, I live here more than a year now.”  
“Sorry…”  
“No need to apologize, I know it looks like I´m moving. For some reason, I never unpacked after moving in.”  
Neal sat down while Peter went into the kitchen. When he came back out, Neal saw he was holding a Veuve Cliquot and popped the cork like a pro.  
“What is the occasion?”   
“I made a life changing decision tonight, that asks for a little celebration.”  
“You mean the tattoo? Yeah, I guess it will influence the way people perceive you. Let´s toast to the new improved Peter Burke.”   
Both men raised their glasses and toasted. AN hour later the bottle was empty.  
“I can´t let you drive home.”  
“Just point me to the guest bedroom.” Neal grinned with a goofy smile.  
“I don´t have one.” Peter said in earnest.  
“Agent Burke, what are we going to do?”  
“I see three options here. I can call you a cab. I can sleep on the couch, but I prefer the last option, which is we share the bed. But it is up to you.”  
“Where is the bedroom?”  
Peter pulled Neal up from the couch. Neal gladly let himself be pulled towards Peter´s chest. Peter kissed but Neal deepened it. When they came up for air, they were both panting. Peter pulled Neal with him towards the bedroom and was happy he had decided to change the linens this morning.  
Peter stumbled and Neal fell on top of Peter, who wrapped his arms around him. They made out until they fell asleep in each other’s arms.


	9. Happily ever after

Peter woke around nine. He was lying on his back and Neal had snuggled up against him. He liked the feeling of Neal next to him. He let his eyes slip close again, not really sleeping, just dozing until Neal stirred.

“Good morning, gorgeous.”

“Hmmm…”

“Close your eyes, it is Saturday morning, no need to get up.”

Neal snuggled even closer to Peter and kissed him when he turned his head to look at Neal.

“Good idea.” Neal let his eyes close again and just enjoyed the closeness and scent of Peter´s body. When he stirred awake, it was eleven o´clock and he was alone in bed.

He got up and found a robe on the bed. He walked into the kitchen and found Peter preparing breakfast.

“Something smells good and it isn’t just breakfast.” Neal said with husky voice.

“Sit down, I will bring you coffee.”

“So what does an FBI-agent do on Saturday?”

Peter showed a little scowl. “Just the same as the rest of the working class, groceries, home repairs,… And you?”

“Normally I would have been working for quite some time already. Saturday is our busiest day.”

“Is there something you want to do after breakfast?”

“Breakfast? It is lunch time.”

“Would you mind coming over to my place? I am expecting a delivery around three.”

“I would love to. Let´s eat.”

 

* *  *

 

They drove back to Neal´s place just before a delivery van parked in front of the house. A big flat parcel was carried indoors. Peter studied the parcel, but he couldn´t figure out what could be inside.

Neal however, looked like a kid in a candy store. He tore the packaging off and looked at the stretched linens. He let his hand glide over the canvas as if he was caressing a lover.

Peter admired the way Neal was all excited about a couple of bland canvases.

“Do you mind if I…? Neal looked all anxious at Peter.

“Mind if you what?”

“If I paint. I need to create something.”

“Of course not, do you want me to leave?”

“No, by all means, stay, maybe you can sit on the couch, watch some TV, read the newspaper? You want a beer or a glass of wine?”

“Are you having a beer?”

“No, I´m having wine.”

“Then I will have one too.”

Neal walked to the kitchen, took some sausage and cheese and placed them on a plate and brought it into the living room. He then made his way over to his wine rack, studied it and took out a bottle. He decanted the bottle and left the room. Peter could hear him upstairs and opened the newspaper he had bought on the way over. As he was reading, he hadn´t noticed Neal coming back down until he heard Neal placing the canvas on his easel. He looked up and swallowed. Neal had changed, he was wearing jeans, which were torn and stained and an old raggedy T-shirt. He looked stunning. He kept staring to Neal, who was taking out paints and brushes.

Neal was completely occupied by what he was doing, he wasn´t paying attention to Peter anymore.

Two hours later, Neal suddenly put down everything, walked up to the couch and dropped into it.

“I need a drink.”

He grabbed Peter´s glass and sipped it. He also took a piece of toast with cheese.

“I´m sorry, I´m such a bad host.”

“No, not at all. I love watching you create. You are so into what you are doing. I never realized.”

“Yeah, If I get in the zone, it´s peaceful.” Neal was eating the snacks like he was famished.

“Shall I prepare something for dinner?” Peter suggested.

“Can you?” Neal quipped.

“Hardihar.”

“I don´t know what I have in the fridge.”

“Let me take care of it, you go back to your painting.”

Peter got up and quickly checked out the fridge. He found some chicken, peppers and paradelle pasta. He decided to wok it together. He fried the chicken and vegetables with some sweet chili sauce while cooking the pasta.

Within fifteen minutes he had a gorgeous looking meal on the table.

He called Neal into the kitchen and while Neal washed his hands, Peter placed the two plates on the table and walked into the living room to get the wine.

“It smells delicious, what is it?”

“Piedro´s pollo picante.”

“Sound great.”

After a delicious dinner, Neal went back to his painting and Peter put on some water for coffee and sat down before the TV. When the water boiled, he made the coffee and smiled at the domesticity of the scene. He could get used to this.

 

* *  *

 

“Peter?”

Peter realized he had fallen asleep on the couch. He blinked at Neal who was kneeling next to the couch.

“Sorry, I didn´t intend to fall asleep. What time is it?”

“One.”

Peter sat up. “I should be going. Can you call me a cab?”

“No silly, Come on, let´s go to bed.”

“Neal pulled Peter up and guided him to his bedroom. Once they were inside, he pushed Peter towards the bed and started kissing him.”

 

* *  *

 

They spent Sunday indoors. Neal painted, Peter checked his mails on Neal´s laptop, watched some games and made out with Neal, whenever he could distract him from his painting.

After he cooked dinner for the both of them, he called a cab and went home.

 

* *  *

 

Work kept Peter away from Neal. They sent whatsapps and texts, and Peter apologized he couldn´t join Neal and his team for dinner. Neal kept working on his painting and he had also sketched a tattoo or Peter. It was something completely different from the one he had designed in that basement, but it would fit. He couldn´t wait to show Peter.

On Friday morning Peter had texted that he would quit work early and that he would come over to Neal´s place around seven.

When seven came and went, Neal got worried and called Peter, but his call went straight to voicemail.

An hour later, his doorbell rang and Neal let out a breath of relief. Peter had probably worked late. When he checked the security camera, he was surprised it was not Peter but Diana.

“Diana, what happened to Peter?” he asked through the intercom.

“Neal, can I come in?”

Neal´s heart pounded. Something was wrong. Neal opened the door.

“ I´m here to take you to Peter.”

“What happened?”

“He was pushed down a flight of stairs during an arrest.”

“Is he OK?”

“As OK as you are when you fall down a flight of stairs. But he will be. It´s just bumps and bruises.”

Neal grabbed his coat and followed Diana to her car.

When they arrived at the hospital, Neal was relieved. Diana drove like a banshee, he was glad to be out of the car.

When Diana flashed her badge, they were let through without questions. Being an FBI-agent certainly had its perks.

When Neal entered the room, he stopped in the door. Peter was semi-sitting up. He had bruising on his face. His arm was lying protectively over his ribs. He appeared to be sleeping. Diana gave him a gentle push and Neal stepped forward. He took Peter´s other hand in his and placed a kiss on it. He realized too late that he didn´t know whether or not Peter´s co-workers knew Peter was gay. Did the FBI have a policy maybe, like the army? But when he turned, he saw Diana standing outside the room, chatting up one of the nurses.

“What?” Peter woke disoriented.

“Shh, it´s just me.” Neal smiled.

“Hi. Thank you for coming.”

“Rest, I´m here.”

Peter sighed and shifted to get more comfortable. Neal sat down on the chair next to the bed and kept vigil.

 

* *  *

 

When Peter was discharged from the hospital, Neal suggested he would stay with him, so he could take care of him.

After some persuasion, Peter admitted defeat and agreed to come stay with Neal while he recuperated. If he was being honest, he was glad Neal had suggested it. He would have been miserable and alone in his apartment.

Peter had given Neal his keys to Neal so he could pick up some clothes and toiletries. Afterwards Neal took a cab to the hospital where Peter was just being discharged. Neal wheeled Peter outside to a waiting cab.

It was slow going getting Peter inside, and Peter sighed alleviated when he was lying on the couch. Neal covered him with a quilt.

“You want a pain killer?”

“No, they gave me something before I left the hospital, I´m good.”

Neal gave him a kiss on his head and left to make himself a coffee. Outside it started to rain and Neal was glad they were inside. He turned on some smaller lamps for indirect light and decided to sketch some before starting on dinner. He would make some chicken noodle soup. It would be easy on Peter´s stomach.

He sketched some tattoos, he had been thinking about, but never put on paper, when his stomach growled. He looked up at the clock and saw it was already six o´clock. He quickly went into the kitchen and shredded the pre-boiled chicken, chopped some vegetables and dumped everything in a large pan. He added some herbs and when it all boiled, he added the noodles. The smell of the sup only made him more hungry.

He turned down the stove and walked back to Peter, who was stirring in his sleep.

“Hey sleepy head, how do you feel?”

“Sore.” Peter grimaced when he moved the wrong way.

“I made you some chicken noodle soup.”

“I´m not that hungry.”

“You should eat, when you need a pain killer later it is best that you have something in your stomach.”

Peter nodded and winced when he got up.

“Easy…”

“It´s OK, this is uncomfortable, but not the first time I was pushed down a flight of stairs.”

“That doesn´t comfort me, you do realize that, don´t you?”

“Sorry, that sounded more reassuring in my head.”

“Eat, It will make you feel better.”

Neal handing Peter his bowl and taking his own.

“This is delicious.”

“Thank you, I like cooking for you.”

“It is nice if someone cooks for you. This feels good, homey. Thank you for taking care of me.”

“No need to thank me. I really enjoy your company. Do you want some tea? I think It will be better than coffee.”

“Yes, I would like a cup.”

Neal helped Peter back to the couch and when into the kitchen, when he came back, he switched on the television so they could watch the news. Peter eventually fell asleep on Neal´s lap. When his legs started to go numb, he gently woke Peter.

“Let´s go to bed. If we sleep here, we will only be sorer tomorrow morning.”

“Don´t want to move.” Peter whined.

“Come on you big baby, I will help you.”

They slowly made their way to the bathroom so Peter could brush his teeth before going to bed.

When Peter was settled in bed, Neal quickly took care of things and then crawled in bed. Peter was already asleep, but slowly crept closer to Neal, who fell asleep with a smile on his face.

 

* *  *

 

The next morning Neal woke early and left the bed so Peter could sleep in. He boiled water to make coffee instead of the espresso machine, which would definitely wake up Peter. He was thinking what he would do, when Peter entered the kitchen.

“Hey, good morning. How are you feeling?”

“Even more sore then last night? Is that coffee?”

“Yep, sit. I will make breakfast.”

Peter groaned when he sat down. Neal boiled some eggs with toast and cheese.

Neal studied Peter. After a while he cleared his throat.

“Were you serious when you said you wanted a tattoo?”

Peters topped eating and swallowed.

“Yes, I was. Why?”

“I made a sketch.”

Peter looked intrigued; he gave Neal a smile and asked. “Are you going to show me, or keep me in suspense?”

“Sorry, wait…”

Neal picked up his sketchbook and flipped through it until he stopped. Neal studied it until Peter asked him if he was going to show it. Neal hesitantly pushed the book towards Peter.

“If you don´t like it, that´s OK.”

“Neal,…”

Peter was speechless.

“You don´t like it, it is too big. I needed it this big to cover the outline I already made. I wanted…”

“Stop Neal, it is gorgeous. It is Saint George and the dragon, isn´t it?”

“Yes, you are like Saint George.”

“And how did you come to that conclusion?” Peter snorted.

“You saved me from the dragon.”

Peter didn´t want to point out that he himself had been kidnapped by the serial killer. No need to dig up old cows.

“When can you start?”

“Start what?”

“The tattoo. I´m on sick leave, so…”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, let´s shower and go downstairs.”

“Are you joining me?”

“You think that is wise?”

“No, but I would really like it.”

Neal helped Peter undress while the water warmed up. He pulled him into the shower and started washing him, so he wouldn´t have to bend. He stood behind Peter and while soaping in his chest, he placed soft kisses in his neck.

When he washed Peter´s back and arms, Neal hesitated when he rubbed over the outlined tattoo.

“I´m not getting younger.” Peter said in a playful smile.

Finally, Neal took some more shampoo and started washing Peter´s hair. He moaned when Neal´s strong fingers massaged his scalp. He stepped back under the spray before turning to Neal and kissing him.

“You are gorgeous, you know that, don´t you?”

“You are not so bad yourself, agent Burke.”

Neal could feel Peter´s erection against his skin. He palmed Peter’s cock and slowly started stroking it. Peter moaned against Neal´s shoulder.

“Don´t stop.” He gasped.

Peter spilled in Neal´s hand and it took a moment to come back to his senses.

“Wow…”

Neal turned down the water after rinsing off.

“You don´t want…” Peter stopped talking.

“No, I need to focus, it will help me.” Neal smiled.

Peter toweled himself dry and picked up his shirt.

“No need to put on a shirt.”

Neal quickly got in some comfortable clothes and went downstairs. He needed some time. He started to prepare his tools meticulously, placing his pigment bottles just so on the table.

Peter entered the studio and wasn´t sure what to do. He could see Neal was psyching himself up to do this.

“We don´t have to do this.”

“Yes, we do. Suzy and Mozzie are wondering of the studio will ever open again. They think I lost my mojo.”

“Then let´s do this. Where do you want me?”

“In the chair, relax and get comfortable. If you get cold, tell me.”

Peter sat down and tried to relax. Neal got up and walked to the table where his iPhone was standing in its docking station and selected some music.

“Will it hurt?” Peter said trying to keep his voice steady.

“Yes, it will feel like a hot scratch, it will be more annoying than painful, I guess. But at some point the endorphins will kick in.”

Peter closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Neal started the tattoo gun.

“Stay as still as possible.”

Neal started and Peter had to mentally steady himself. It didn´t hurt as much as Peter had expected. But it wasn´t pleasant either. Soon, his shoulder was numb and he was getting bored.

“Getting bored?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to stop for a break? You must be getting stiff, just sitting here, unmoving.”

“Yeah, I could use a pain pill to be honest.”

Neal got up, popped his back and got a glass of water and the bottle of pain pills. He turned on the tea maker and stretched while waiting for the machine to get ready. He put in the tea pad and made two cups. He then turned up the heating a notch. He didn´t want peter to get uncomfortable.

“How does the shoulder feel?”

“Numb, weird, I don´t know how to describe the feeling.”

“You are not the first to tell me that, so it isn´t strange. Ready to continue?”

“I guess, let´s finish this.”

Peter stat back down and Neal took his place on the stool again. He snapped on new gloves and picked up the tattoo gun.

 

* *  *

 

“Shall I call for Sushi?” Neal suggested.

“To be honest, I would rather eat my own foot.”

“OK, not a Sushi lover, Thai?”

“We can cook.” Peter suggested.

“I´m kind of pooped, I´m not feeling up to cook. And I think you should rest.”

“OK, maybe we can order grilled chicken, some lemon/thyme?”

“Sounds great. I´m going to take a shower.

“Great, you do that while I call.”

When Neal stood in the shower, he closed his eyes and enjoyed the warm water. He opened his eyes when Peter suddenly opened the shower door.

“You shouldn´t be in the shower.” Neal said in a stern voice. “If you want to join me, fill up the bath tub.”

“Nah, if it is that crucial, I will wait.”

“I´m already done. Here let me see.” Neal inspected the tattoo. “It looks good. Remember in two days or so, the tattoo will dry out. If it flakes, don´t pick it.” At Peter´s eye roll, Neal continued. “I´m serious, Peter, leave them if you want a good result.”

Neal left the shower and Peter took him in his arms and kissed Neal.

“Hmmm… you are a great kisser, Peter Burke.”

 

* *  *

 

The next morning, Peter woke to an empty spot next to him. He slowly got up, groaning against the stiffness.

After a stop in the bathroom, he walked downstairs, but the kitchen was also empty. He walked over to the coffeemaker where he noticed a note from Neal.

“I am downstairs.”

Peter smiled; it seemed that Neal had found back his mojo. If he was back tattooing, he would be fine. He couldn´t wait to get to know Neal Caffrey better.

 

 


End file.
